


The Road to Here

by Powerfulweak



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (not between Dean and Castiel), Alcohol as a Coping Mechanism, Brief Dean/Lisa - Freeform, Brief Michael/Castiel, Brief Sabriel, Destiel - Freeform, F/F, F/M, How I Met Your Mother AU, M/M, Mentions Of Infidelity, SPN REverse Bang, Sliding Doors AU, with a better ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 08:42:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5961148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Powerfulweak/pseuds/Powerfulweak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Castiel are always is the right place, but rarely at the right time. See how their lives intertwine through broken hearts, near-death experiences and a very fateful bus ride on a journey to each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Road to Here

**Author's Note:**

> My entry for the SPN Reverse Bang with art by the wonderful [Cuddle-Me-Carl](http://cuddle-me-carl.tumblr.com/). I loved the initial image and I am so thrilled by what you added to it. Thank you again!
> 
> [Art Masterpost](http://cuddle-me-carl.livejournal.com/790.html)  
> 
> 
>   
> I'd also like to thank [Stacie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jade_maiden_333/pseuds/jade_maiden_333) for beta reading for me.
> 
> I suppose you could call this a "Sliding Doors"/How I Met Your Mother AU, but without the dour ending.

 

 

Unlike most streets in the city, Garrison Road does not follow a grid system. Twisting and turning, It follows the rise and fall of the road rather than cutting through it. Some say this goes back to the the foot paths that ran through the forest that originally stood here. Others insist that early city planners had zero forethought and perhaps too much ale. To look at it from above, Garrison Road resembles a child’s crayon scratch dragging across the landscape.

At least, that’s how it looks to Dean as he stares out of the second floor window of the church, the winding mess of Garrison Road stretching out before him. He nervously fiddles with his bow tie, tying and retying it as he watches the steady stream of people enter into the chapel below. He reminds himself that, in the scheme of things, a wedding is just one day out of the thousands and thousands of days he plans to spend with Castiel. It’s not a jumping off point, but rather a continuation in an ongoing journey, one that began two years ago only a short distance away from where he now stands.

Dean smiles to himself; maybe it’s fitting that they are getting married on Garrison Road, considering it’s where he and Castiel met.

There is a soft knock at the door and Sam pokes his head inside the room.

“We’re about to start,” he says. “You ready?” Dean glances back at his brother.

“Yeah,” he replies with an assured nod. “I’m ready for this.”

 

* * *

 

**Four Years Ago**

**_Castiel_ **

Castiel weaves through the crowd, running down Garrison Road, his feet hitting the pavement in rhythmic slaps.

“Stop!” He cries out, reaching out in vain toward the retreating city bus. “Wait! Please!” He grips his messenger bag tighter to his body and picks up the pace. If he misses this bus, there won’t be another for an hour and he needs to get home if he wants to finish that data call for Crowley.

“For the love of God, Stop!” Castiel screams, causing several heads to turn in his direction. The bus jerks to an abrupt stop with a deafening screech of tires. Breathless relief runs through Castiel as he finally reaches the bus. A horn blares in the distance and he raises an apologetic hand.

“Whoa, there,” the driver says as the door swings open and Castiel stumbles up the steps. “Man, you were bookin’ it. Lucky thing I saw you.”

“Yeah,” Castiel pants, sliding his fare card through the reader. He drops inelegantly into the nearest seat, ignoring the glares of his fellow passengers. He made his ride; that’s all that matters.

* * *

 

**_Dean_ **

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Dean exclaims as the bus ahead of him grinds to an unexpected stop to pick up a straggler. Dean leans on the horn in frustration. He checks his phone. 6:54 p.m. Sam is due to be at the Roadhouse at 7 p.m. Dean refuses to be late for his younger brother’s surprise birthday party just because of some goober doesn’t understand public transportation.

The bus pulls away and Dean steps on the gas, speeding through traffic as much as the winding turns of Garrison Road will allow.

He doesn't notice the flashing lights in his rearview mirror until he flies through a yellow light.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean mutters, jerking the wheel to the right and pulling over.

* * *

 

**_Castiel_ **

Castiel exhales in relief as soon as he steps through his front door. The apartment he shares with his boyfriend is small and slightly crowded, but it's cozy and has an antiquated feel to it that Castiel loves (even if Michael repeatedly comments that it’s haunted).

“Michael?” he calls out as he folds his trench coat over a dining room chair and sets his bag on the floor. The apartment is quiet save for the buzz of the muted tv and the sound of the shower running.

Castiel moves into their bedroom and the ensuite bathroom, Michael’s hazy form visible behind the frosted glass shower door.

“Michael?” Castiel calls out again, raising his voice above the echo of the water.

“Hey, Castiel,” Michael greets as he washes the soap from his hair. “How was your day?”

“Fine,” Castiel sighs as he sits down on top of the closed toilet. “I have to work in that Data call tonight-”

“Again?” Michael interrupts him. “I swear you do more work at home than you do at work.” Castiel frowns; he hates when Michael makes these assessments, since they are largely untrue.

“I can concentrate better here,” Castiel replies. “Less noise.” Michael hums in understanding as he suds up facial wash. A chime from a cellphone grabs both of their attention.

“Shit, I bet that's Luke,” Michael says. “He's been bugging me for weeks about the edits on his manuscript. Castiel, can you grab my phone for me?” Castiel nods and steps into the bedroom. He spots Michael’s phone sitting on his bedside table and picks it up.

Something isn't right, though. Rather than a message from one of Michael's clients, there is a small image of a very naked woman along with the message “Miss you so much baby, my bed's so cold without you.”

It has to be a wrong number, Castiel thinks. Automatically, his thumb swipes across the message, opening the text thread. His brow furrows as he reads through dozens and dozens of lewd texts between Michael and this Eve person. The chain goes back months and months; Castiel throat clenches as he realizes that this has just been happening under his nose. His expression hardens as he scans through several photos of Eve twisted into different graphic positions, her ass or tits on display in each one.

“What did Luke say?” Michael steps into the bedroom, scrubbing at his short dark hair with a towel. Castiel turns slowly to face him, his expression abject rage.

“Who’s Eve?” He asks. Michael's whole body stiffens for a moment before switching into false nonchalance.

“I have no idea,” he says, averting his eyes. “Must be a wrong number.” He busies himself with his underwear drawer. Castiel stands there in stunned silence.

“Who the Hell is Eve?” He asks again, louder this time. He holds up Michael’s phone at eye level, the text thread open. Michael looks at it, his expression blank save for a clench of his jaw.

“Does it matter?” He asks, moving past Castiel and grabbing a shirt out of the drawer..

“Of course it matters!” Castiel shouts, following behind him. “You’re cheating on me? With a woman?”

“It appears I am,” Michael says as he slips on a pair of sweatpants. He straightens up and looks at Castiel. “Honestly, I’m glad you know. I’m relieved.” Castiel’s jaw hangs open in disbelief. This moment feels so unreal, he’s almost convinced he’s dreaming.

“Why?” he finally mutters, tears beginning to sting his eyes. Michael stares at him for a moment, his expression filled with concern and pity. He opens his mouth, as if he’s about to answer, but then exits the bedroom instead.

Castiel stands there in stunned silence, mind racing to catch up with the situation. The images from Michael’s phone flash in front of his eyes and a ball of anger rises in his gut. Abruptly, Castiel rushes to their closet and grabs out a duffle bag. He throws open their drawers, haphazardly stuffing clothes and personal belongings inside.

“Castiel, what are you doing?” Michael demands from the doorway.

“Leaving,” he answers, not faltering in his packing.

“Leaving?” Michael parrots. “What do you mean? Why are you leaving?” Castiel pauses, giving Michael an incredulous look.

“Are you seriously asking me that?” he mutters. “You cheated on me Michael!”

“So?” Michael squawks. “So what? We’re adults. It happens.”

“Not to me,” he hisses as he grabs his picture frames off the dresser and throws them in the bag.

“For God’s sake, you are really going to throw away our life together over some dumb little thing?” Michael snorts. “Grow up, Castiel.” Castiel’s eyes burn into Michael.

“Your ‘dumb little fling’ has been going on for four months,” he argues. “I hardly think that qualifies.” Castiel pulls the zipper on the bag closed and steps out of the bedroom. He throws his trench coat back on, swings the strap of his messenger bag across his chest.

“I’ll get the rest of my stuff later,” he says, pulling out his keys and removing the one for their apartment. “When you’re not here.” He shoulders the duffle bag moves past Michael, opening the door.

“Oh be reasonable, Castiel,” Michael calls after him. “Where will you live? Where will you go?”

“Somewhere you’re not,” Castiel shouts as he slams the door shut.

There is a feeling of triumph as he descends the stairs and leaves the apartment building, but it quickly dissipates as reality sets in. Castiel doesn’t have a plan. He followed Michael out here for his grad program. He knows people from work, but no one who he thinks would take him in for an undetermined amount of time. All of his family and long time friends are across the country. He doesn't have anything of his own out here; he doesn't even have a car. Castiel stands helplessly on the sidewalk outside of the apartment as he considers what to do next.

Only one option comes to mind. He pulls out his phone and dials a number.

“Gabriel,” he says as soon as the other man picks up, “Can I come over?”

 

* * *

 

As he expected, Gabriel takes him in, no questions asked.

“What are former coworkers whom you bailed out of jail once, no questions asked, for?” He asks. Castiel smiles and mumbles a thank you. He and Gabriel had worked at the coffee shop together for a year and a half until he'd gotten the job at Crowley and Associates. They'd reminded friends, with Gabriel filling the role of pseudo-older brother.

“I'm afraid I'll have to dig my air mattress out of my storage unit.” He says as Castiel drags his duffel bag through the door. “You mind the couch tonight?”

“No, that’s more than acceptable.” Castiel flops down onto the overstuffed sofa. Gabriel gives him a pained look and settles down next to him.

“Hey man, why don’t we go out tonight? Celebrate your singledom.” Castiel raises a confused brow.

“I really… don’t think that's appropriate,” he replies.

“Actually, I think it's just what you need.” Gabriel pokes a finger into his shoulder. “You can get suitably wasted, blow off some steam, maybe blow a guy, and just forget about Michael in general.” Castiel gives him a grateful smile but shakes his head.

“While ‘suitably wasted’ sounds appealing, I'd prefer as few people as possible be witness to my misery.” Gabriel looks at him doubtfully, but doesn't push the issue.

“Suit yourself.” He rises from the couch. “You don't mind if I go, do you?” Castiel waves him off, grateful to be on his own.

Gabriel leaves with the instruction not to burn the place down and that he's welcome to whatever liquor is in the house. Castiel takes him up on the offer as soon as the door closes, grabbing a bottle of tequila from above the fridge. He forgoes the glass, drinking straight from the bottle and zoning out to whatever is playing on TV.

His only plan tonight is to forget this shitty day.

* * *

 

**_Dean_ **

One traffic citation and an hour and a half in rush hour traffic later and Dean is officially late for his brother’s party. The surprise party he planned, no less.

By the time he steps inside the Roadhouse, Sam’s gift tucked under his arm, the party is in full swing.

“Dean!” Jo calls out from behind the bar. “What happened to you, man? We had Garth distract Sam for an extra 10 minutes waiting for you.” Dean shakes his head dismissively as he sits down, setting Sam’s gift on the bar.

“Got fucking pulled over,” he mutters. “I wasn't even going that fast, like ten over.” Jo gives him a wry smirk as she pours a beer from the tap for him.

“Uh-huh,” she says sarcastically.

“Where is the birthday boy anyway?” Dean glances around the bar, searching for his brother. Jo tips her chin up toward the back of the room as she sets his beer down. Dean twists around to see his brother grinning down at a short guy with longish, light brown hair and a goofy smile. It's clear from how close they are standing that both men have the same idea in mind for the night.

“Looking for a little birthday nookie, I see,” Dean says. He catches Sam’s eye and gives him a weak smile. Sam nods, gives his friend a “one minute” signal, and crosses the room to meet Dean.

“Hey, man,” he says, swallowing Dean up in a hug.

“Happy Birthday, ya moose,” Dean replies. “You didn't have to stop what you were doing to see me. Go back to flirting with Santa’s elf over there .” Sam laughs and slaps his brother on the back.

“Yeah, well Ellen and Jo told me you organized this. I at least owe you a shot.” Before he can even finish the sentence, Jo sets two bourbons on the bar in front of them. Sam and Dean each pick up a glass and shoot it back; Dean snorts at the way Sam’s face twists in reaction. He grabs the package from the bar and hands it to Sam.

“Happy birthday, Bitch,” he says affectionately.

“Thanks, Jerk,” Sam replies. He tears away the paper, his face lighting up when he sees what's beneath. “Game of Thrones box set! Sweet!”

“A Song of Fire and Ice,” Dean corrects. “So now I don't want to hear any more of this ‘spoiler’ bullshit. I expect you to at least be through Clash of Kings by the time the next season starts.” Sam mumbles something sarcastic under his breath, but still brings Dean in for a thank you hug.

“Alright, alright, you're welcome,” Dean says. “Now go get back to that guy who wants to jump your bones. You are not going to blame me for not getting laid on your birthday.” Sam nods and Dean watches as he scurries off to find the short guy once more.

“What about you, Dean?” Jo asks as he turns back to the bar. “You on the prowl as well?” It’s not really an unexpected question. Normally, the answer would be yeah, but Dean just shakes his head instead.

“I think I'm just going to relax tonight,” he says.

“‘Bout time!” Ellen pipes up as she sidles up next to him. “I was hoping you might start thinking about settling down.”

Dean holds up his hands defensively. “Whoa, whoa, whoa… Let's not go that far.” He takes a sip of his drink. “Just because I don't feel like hooking up does not mean I'm in the mood to settle down.” Jo and her mother exchange dubious looks.

“What?” Dean exclaims. “I'm not _that_ much of a horndog. Besides, even if I was looking for a relationship, now is not the time. The job situation is in the air, I still have all these student loans to pay off… I'm just not in the right place for anyone.”

“Well, I tend to disagree,” Ellen replies, “but it's your life.”

“Damn straight it is,” Dean says as he takes another drink. Jo gives him a sympathetic look, wordlessly apologizing and commiserating for her meddling mother. Dean hears his name called from across the room and looks up to see Ash and Garth waving him over to play darts.

“If you ladies will excuse me,” he says as he rises from his stool. “I have a couple asses to kick at cutthroat.”

* * *

 

**_Castiel_ **

Castiel’s head throbs as he rises into consciousness. It takes a minute for his eyes to focus, falling on the now-empty bottle of tequila sitting on the floor next to the couch. Castiel squeezes his eyes shut tight and groans. He turns over on the couch away from the light of the morning, his stomach protesting as he does. An annoying noise grates at his already frayed nerves; it sounds like someone chewing. Castiel opens one eye and then the other before raising his head in confusion.

A long-haired giant of a man, clad only in plaid boxer shorts, sits at Gabriel’s kitchen island, eating cereal out of a bowl.

“‘Sup?” the guys says between bites, tipping his chin up toward Castiel.

“Uh, hi,” Castiel croaks out, slowly sitting up on the couch. Castiel is still fully dressed in his clothes from yesterday, but this guy seems nonplussed to just be there in his underwear.

“You’re Gabe’s friend?” he asks and Castiel nods. “I’m Sam.”

“Hi,” Castiel repeats. He wants to ask where Gabriel is, but at that exact moment, the man chooses to step out into the living room.

“Morning, Castiel,” he yawns loudly. “Morning… uh… um…”

“Sam,” the giant supplies with a hint of annoyance.

“Yeah, Sam.” Gabriel flashes him a sleepy but flirtatious grin. “That’s right. Didn’t realize you were going to... stay so long.”

Sam shrugs. “My car is still at the bar.” He gives Gabriel a pointed look. “I’ve already called my brother. He’s coming to pick me up.” Gabriel tries to mask his relief but fails. It’s clear even to Castiel’s alcohol-fogged brain that this a one-night stand that has gone on far too long for both parties.

“Cool, cool,” Gabriel says as he glances at his phone. “What time is he supposed to be here?”

“Around 8:30, so in about 15 minutes,” Sam answers. Castiel stiffens abruptly.

“Wait a minute!” he gasps. “It’s 8:15!?” Sam and Gabriel both nod. Castiel jumps to his feet and runs through the apartment, muttering “shit” repeatedly under his breath as he splashes water on his face and squirts a gob of toothpaste in his mouth.

“Shit! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Castiel tears open his duffel bag, grabbing a random pair of pants and shirt.

“Castiel, what’s going on?” Gabriel yells after him.

“I have five minutes to catch the bus!” he shouts back. He slings his messenger bag over his shoulder and trips over his half-tied shoes as he bolts out the door.

“Uh, Dude, my brother can probably give you a lift if you need it,” Sam calls after him, but Castiel is out of earshot. Sam looks back to Gabriel who just gives a listless shrug as he reaches into the open cereal box and pulls out a fist full of Captain Crunch.

“That’s gross,” Sam says flatly.

“My hands are clean,” Gabriel replies, mouth stuffed with cereal. His eyes travel up and down Sam’s body and he nudges his head toward the bedroom. “Want another go?” Sam considers this for a moment, shrugs, and stands from the island.

“Let’s make it quick,” he says, letting his boxers fall to the floor as he retreats down the hall.

* * *

 

Castiel misses his bus and has to wait nearly thirty minutes for the next one.

By the time he arrives in the office, he somehow looks even worse for wear than when he started. His head throbs and his stomach feels like a witch’s brew bubbling and swirling. All he wants is to get some coffee and hide in his cubicle for the rest of the day, talking to no one.

“Novak!” A clipped, hoarse voice shouts out his name, causing him to flinch. “Are you at all familiar with our office hours?” Mr. Crowley strolls down the lane between cubicles in his direction.

“Yes, sir, I am,” Castiel mumbles. “I… I missed the bus.” Crowley gives him tight smile.

“I believe one of the requirements of your hiring here was to have reliable transportation,” he says. “Am I incorrect on that fact?”

“No sir,” Castiel swallows hard. Castiel catches of whiff of cigarette smoke and too much cologne coming off the man and the smell turns his stomach. “I promise it won’t happen again.”

“I should hope not,” Crowley replies. “This will be your second write-up in a month.”

“Yes, sir.” Castiel tries to breath through his mouth, the tequila quickly winning the revolt against his stomach.

“One more incident and-” Crowley doesn’t have a chance to finish his sentence before Castiel doubles over and vomits Jose Cuervo all over his shoes. There is a collective gasp from everyone in the nearby area. Castiel wavers on his feet but rights himself, looking up reluctantly at a seething Crowley.

“Disgusting,” he hisses, taking a step back. “Collect your things and vacate the building at once.” Without another word, Crowley turns and walks away, leaving tequila-vomit footprints in his wake.

Castiel walks on unsteady feet to his desk, grabbing an empty xerox paper box on the way. He only has a few personal items in his cubicle and it takes him no more than five minutes to grab it all. He unclips his ID badge and leaves it on the desk before turning and walking out of the office.

As he leaves, he feels a strange sense of euphoria, like a weight being lifted off his shoulders. Maybe this is good; he never liked working at Crowley and Associates anyways. Maybe this will be just the life change he needs. He already feels 75% better than he did thirty minutes ago.

… Of course, that could be an effect of the puking too.

 

* * *

 

**_Dean_ **

Dean is waiting in the idling Impala when Sam finally tromps down the stairs of the non-descript apartment building.

“You’re early,” he says as he opens the door and slips inside.

“Your text said SOS.” Dean throws the car into reverse and backs out of the parking lot. “I’m assuming that you wanted out of there as soon as possible.”

“Yeah, well, y’know,” Sam mutters, running a hand through his too-long hair and hunkering down against the window.

“Mistakes were made, then?” Dean supplies, glancing at his brother.

“Yeah. Twice,” Sam says, shutting his eyes. They ride in silence for a long while. Dean thinks Sam is asleep until he pipes up unexpectedly.

“You interested in grabbing breakfast or anything like that?” he says.

“Sure,” Dean says, “Denny’s ok?” Sam hums in the affirmative and Dean pulls into the restaurant parking lot a few minutes later.

They both order coffee and omelets from the waitress as soon as they sit down, Dean reaching over and grabbing three sugar packets out of the caddy.

“So, you had fun last night?” he asks. “I mean at the party. I don't want the details of your sex life.”

“Yeah, Dean, of course I did.” Sam replies with a grin. “Thank you for that. Best birthday I've had in years.” Dean smiles; the most important thing about last night was Sam enjoying himself. He’s been busting his ass in law school the last three years and his birthday always landed right in the throes of finals. This was the first year that his birthday didn't come with some exam hanging over his head.

“There is something I wanted to ask you about,” Sam says. The smiles drops off of Dean’s face.

“What's up?”

“Did I hear you talking to Jo and Ellen about a job in Oregon?” Dean’s shoulders sagged; this is not how he wanted to broach the topic.

“It's just a possibility,” he says.

“A possibility?”

“There is a position available in the philosophy department at a school in Portland. A friend of mine suggested my name to the department head.”

“You're moving to Oregon?” Sam asks, raising a disbelieving eyebrow.

“I don't know, maybe.” Dean shrugs. “I've put in my resume. Maybe I'll get an interview, maybe I won't.” Dean tries to keep up a nonchalant attitude on the matter. The truth is, this is the most exciting opportunity of his career so far. Aaron can't stop raving about the school or Portland in general. He's already spoken to the department head and feels very confident in how their talk went.

Sam can't stop staring at him with that weird expression though.

“You are seriously moving to the west coast?” he narrows his eyes at his brother. “After all the shit you gave me about going to school in California?”

“This is different, Sam,” Dean says. “And right now everything is hypothetical.”

“But you would move if you got the job?”

“Of course I would. I'd be stupid not to,” Dean replies. “Substituting pays the bills but it's not a career.”

Sam gives an indifferent shrug. “Just surprised you aren't looking for teaching positions in the area.”

“Who says I'm not, Sam?” Dean bites out a harsh reply. “Unfortunately, waiting for tenured professors to die or retire can take years. I don't have that sort of time.” Sam frowns, but doesn't say anything. The waitress comes and drops off their food.

“Nothing says that you can't move out there, too,” Dean offers. “Maybe reconnect with that one girl you dated in college. What was her name? Jenny?”

“Jess,” Sam corrects with a small grin. “Whatever, man. You just do what's best for you, ok?” Dean smiles and raises his coffee cup toward his brother.

“Will do, Sam.”

* * *

 

**_Castiel_ **

The euphoria doesn’t last long. It’s not a day and a half later that the reality of the situation sinks in and Castiel is laid up on Gabriel’s couch, hopeless. Gabriel doesn’t say anything, just makes Castiel cups of tea and grilled cheese sandwiches. He asks Cas for the play-by-play of the talk shows or Days of Our Lives and doesn’t push him to put on pants or even leave the apartment. He gives Castiel time, or, more specifically, a month and a half.

“Cas, look,” Gabriel says as he switches off an episode of Law and Order and flops down on the couch next to him. “I know you’ve been through a lot lately.” Castiel just grunts in response.

“Losing your relationship and job in the span of 24 hours is a huge blow, I get it.” His voice is gentle and sincere, as if he’s trying to approach a skittish animal. “But don’t you think it’s time you… I don’t know…moved on?”

Castiel looks up at him with big, watery eyes. “You want me to leave?” He says in disbelief.

“No, no, no, I’m not saying you should move out. Not at all,” Gabriel assures. “But… it might not be a bad idea for you to leave the apartment or meet some people… Move past Michael.”

Castiel’s brow furrows in anger. “So you just think I should just take the shambles of my life and rebuild it?”

“Baby steps, Cas.” Gabriel holds up two hands defensively. “How about a job? I really need you to start pulling your weight, at least with the rent, y’know.” Castiel nods numbly. He’s been taking advantage of Gabriel’s kindness for too long.

“Yeah, alright,” He mumbles, rewrapping his blanket over his shoulders. “I’ll go get a paper tomorrow and-” Gabriel thwacks a newspaper across his chest.

“Way ahead of you.” He offers Castiel a wry grin. “Want ads. page E9.”

* * *

 

**_Dean_ **

More than ever, Dean hates flying

“You don’t understand!” he shouts to the airline employee behind the counter. “I need to be in Portland tonight. I have a job interview in six hours.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” the employee says, flashing a practiced, sympathetic smile. “We are not allowed to let anymore passengers board once the doors close.” Dean growls lowly and scrubs a hand over his face. He can’t believe this is happening. He’d been so thrilled to get the call from the school saying they’d like to meet him, but that excitement died when they said they’d already booked him a flight out there for the interview. Even aside from Dean’s intense hatred of flying, they’d booked it on the day Dean was scheduled to appear in traffic court to fight the bunk speeding ticket he’d gotten the day of Sam’s birthday party.

“If you’d like sir, I can get you booked for a flight at 10:20 tomorrow morning,” she offers, tapping on the keyboard.

“My interview is at 8:30,” Dean mutters. This was not supposed to be such a close call, unfortunately, the cop who pulled him over never appeared in court and the judge spent an hour giving him the benefit of the doubt before throwing out the case. The delay had thrown off Dean’s entire schedule and led to him running late for the flight. He’d driven as fast as he was legally allowed, but by the time he was through check in and security, the doors of the plane were already closed.

“Please,” Dean begged. “Please. Is there anyway you could just open the door? They haven’t even pulled away yet. I have my ticket and everything; I can’t stress how important this is.” The woman just gives Dean a sympathetic look.

“I apologize, sir, but there is nothing else I can do.”

 

* * *

 

**_Dean_ **

Dean is pissed.

He’s pissed at the airline and the school and the fucking traffic cop for not showing up. It’s late as he drives down the deserted highway, away from the airport, fuming to himself. He’s tried several times to contact anyone at the school but he knows that is a fruitless effort. Even if he did get ahold of them and explain the situation, it wouldn’t look good for Dean. After the money they’d spent on the plane ticket and how much they emphasized face-to-face interviews when he brought up the idea of a Skype call instead, he knew his chances were boned. Word had already gotten around about the position and he’d heard from some of his friends and colleagues that competition was very high.

Dean sighs; it’s just his luck for shit like this to happen. Everytime he has a good opportunity, life has a way of throwing a spanner into the works and fucking everything up for him. Sure, Dean made a lot of sacrifices growing up for his family, especially Sam, but isn’t karma supposed to pay off eventually?

Dean looks down at the dash, noticing the dial on the gas gauge hovering right above E. In the distance, he spots a Gas n’ Sip. Maybe he can pick up a six-pack and drown his sorrows for the remainder of the evening. Just as he gets within a half mile of the station, though, the glowing blue sign shuts off and the whole station goes dark; they’re closed.

“Story of my life,” Dean mutters as he drives on past the unlit station.

* * *

 

**_Castiel_ **

Castiel is miserable.

Working at Crowley and Associates was never a ball of laughs, but it had been a great deal better than the Gas n’ Sip. His feet and back ache from standing for 12 hours behind the counter, there is a deep gash on his hand from trying to fix the slurpee machine, and his head throbs from the combined smell of industrial cleaner, old coffee and exhaust from outside.

Maybe he should have been a little pickier when it came to choosing a job, but he’d felt so guilty mooching off of Gabriel and was eager to pay him back. The manager Nora had hired him on the spot, telling Castiel how keen she was to fill the graveyard shift; that should’ve been Castiel’s first clue.

He knows he should be happy just to be employed, but after losing the job that he felt was going to become his career, working at a gas station feels like stagnation. Gabriel usually points out how pretentious that sounds, but Castiel has always been the type of person to believe in fulfillment, professionally, romantically and personally. Life is about living, not just surviving, and currently that is all he is doing. Hell, he’s barely making enough to afford his storage unit.

Castiel stares at the clock on the wall; five minutes until closing. He glances out to the road; There are no cars in sight, the only light coming from the yellow street lamps. No one will care or notice if he closes up early. He moves from behind the counter, grabbing his coat and Gabriel’s car keys from the backroom. He locks the front door and moves toward the back of the building, flicking off the lights on the main electrical panel one at a time, the store growing darker with each switch. With the final flick, the store is plunged into darkness. Castiel moves blindly through the building and out the back door, locking it behind him and jogging toward the car.

 

* * *

 

**_Dean_ **

Dr. Cain looks like a reject from “Easy Rider” and talks like a character out of a Tennessee Williams’ play; not at all what Dean pictured when he thought “academic.” A lion’s mane of salt and pepper hair hangs around his face, framed by a full beard which he dabs with a napkin after each sip of his coffee. He sits in the booth across from Dean, hands casually clasped together on the table, considering him with stoic blue eyes.

“Well?” he asks

“I don’t know,” Dean mumbles in response, anxious at being put on the spot. When he’d received the call from Dr. Cain, he didn’t realize that it was because he was being considered for a teaching position. Dean’s not even sure how the man got his name.

He fiddles with the school brochure in front of him, smiling students looking back at him from the glossy cover beneath the words “Berens Community College”.

“I know it’s a lot to consider, Dean,” Dr. Cain says. “I’m sure you have other offers and other schools looking to hire you, but I truly feel that you would be a good fit at Berens, particularly in the Theology Department.” Dean glances up, brows drawn together.

“That’s my question,” he says. “How did you even find out about me?”

“I was at a conference with a colleague of yours about a month ago… Professor Lafitte? He spoke very highly of you.” Dean’s blinks in surprise.

“Lafitte?” he asks, blinking in surprise. “Benny mentioned me?” Dean hasn’t spoken to Benny in almost 4 years.

“Yes, a great deal, actually,” Cain nods, taking a sip of his coffee and dabbing at his mouth with the napkin. “You made quite an impression on him.”

“And you want to hire me off of his word?” Dean asks.

“Of course I did my own research into you as well,” Cain replies, making Dean feel strangely vulnerable. “I particularly enjoyed your thesis on the mythology of North America. It was very well done.” A small smile crosses Dean’s face; he’s still pretty proud of that paper.

“I’ve gotta say, this is the strangest job interview I’ve ever had.” Dean admits, glancing around at the bustling coffee shop.

“I prefer not to be constrained by an office environment,” Dr. Cain says. “I feel public spaces such as this provide a calming atmosphere and puts people more at ease.” Dean hums in understanding and idly stirs his coffee. They talk for close to another hour with Dr. Cain spending as much time talking about Berens’ theology department as he does asking Dean about his own life.

“I’m not asking for your decision right away,” Dr. Cain says,“Take a week and consider it. I know we don’t have the same distinction as other schools. We’re just a small community college, after all.” Cain punctuates his sentence with a sip of his coffee and another dab at his mustache.

Dean nods. “Yeah, I’ll, uh… I’ll think about it.” he says. Dr. Cain gives an appreciative nod and glances down at his watch.

“I’m afraid I have an appointment in a short while,” he says, rising from the booth and pulling a small, white card from his wallet. “Whatever your decision, I look forward to your call.” He hands the card to Dean and bids him a goodbye before exiting the cafe.

Dean sits there for a few minutes, studying the card and considering his options. He can’t deny this is a great opportunity; It’s not like teaching positions fall into his lap every day. Still, though, a burr of doubt clings to the back of his mind. What if another offer comes along with better pay or more prestige? What if Aaron frinds another position for him at Western Oregon? Then again, Berens is local, meaning he wouldn’t have to leave his friends or family behind.

Dean gives a heavy sigh and slips the card into his pocket. He stands to leave, pulling a couple bills from his wallet and throwing them onto the table. He notices the school brochure still sitting on the table and considers grabbing it until his phone chimes with a text message. Dean pulls the phone out of his pocket and smiles at Sam’s message. He taps out a reply as he exits the cafe, leaving his empty coffee cup and brochure forgotten on the table.

* * *

 

**_Castiel_ **

Castiel waits in line for coffee, staring up at the menu board. He hates the idea of spending what little money he has on overpriced espresso, but he can’t stomach another cup of the watery, bitter crap that Gas n’ Sip calls “coffee”. Just the thought of it almost makes him gag.

Castiel dreads going into work tonight. Every minute he spends behind that damn counter feels like stagnation. He tries looking for other jobs, but he keeps seeing the the same rhetoric each time- two years experience needed, specialized degree required, some qualification he doesn’t have, blah, blah, blah.

It should not be this hard to get an entry level position.

Castiel groans and scrubs a hand over his face, his frustration palpable. His eyes drift to a nearby table, falling on a glossy brochure sitting next to an empty coffee cup and a couple of dollar bills. The cover features smiling teenagers in staged classroom settings, the words “Berens Community College” running along the top of the page.

Castiel stares at the booklet with interest. It's not like this is the first time going back to school has crossed his mind, but never has the reminder be so blatant. Cost is Castiel’s biggest barrier, but maybe there is a program or payment plan and the school would be willing to work with him. Community college isn’t _that_ expensive, right? He can't possibly be the only person struggling to get a fresh start. Maybe finding this brochure is just the sign he needs.

Castiel hesitates for a moment, wondering if maybe the table’s occupant will return, before reaching over and grabbing the brochure.

* * *

 

**_Dean_ **

“The Theology department occupies Davis Hall over here. We actually share a floor with the Philosophy department.” Dr. Cain points toward a large red brick building as Dean follows him across the quad. “You’ll need to stop by later today and introduce yourself to staff. The whole department is looking forward to meeting you.”

“Well, wait ‘till they sit through one one of my classes,” Dean offers with a self-deprecating tone, “We’ll see how they feel about me after that.”

Cain looks back at Dean with a warm expression. “I'm afraid your reputation precedes you,” he says. “I know Ms. Bradbury was ecstatic when she heard you'd accepted offer. She'll probably talk your ear off when she meets you.” Dean shakes his head with a soft laugh. Everyone at Berens has already made him feel more welcome than he could imagine. He sat in on Dr. Cain’s upper level Pagan Spirituality class this morning and found himself taking notes as if he was an undergrad again. The picturesque campus is larger than expected and students are engaged and enthusiastic about the topics; all of it has Dean eager to get started.

“As I said,” Dr. Cain says as he leads him toward the dining hall for lunch, “we’re not as prestigious as some schools, but we have our strengths. I think you will really like it here, Dean.” Cain reaches for the door and holds it open for him. Dean gives a grateful smile as he walks through.

“I think so, too,” he admits.

* * *

 

**_Castiel_ **

A cacophony of voices hum through the lecture hall as students wait for the professor to arrive. Castiel buzzes with anticipation, his foot nervously bouncing and knocking his knee into the desk.

“Uh, can you stop that?” the scruffy-looking guy sitting next to him asks. Castiel mumbles an apology and presses a hand down against his leg as the guy turns back to browsing his phone.

Maybe he’s a little high-strung, but can anyone blame him? He’s taking some action in his life and getting off his ass. No more self-pity over Michael, no more following after someone, no more Gas n’ Sip (Well, maybe a little more Gas n’ Sip. He does still need a job, after all). Going back to school feels like unexplored territory.

Castiel had poured over the school’s website, comparing programs and majors before finally settling on getting his ASN. Berens had a solid nursing program and Castiel felt that once he got into the workforce and got a better feel for the job, he could work toward his BSN or perhaps even becoming a Nurse Practitioner.

With the help of a couple grants, a bank loan, and a small loan from Gabriel (in exchange for letting him call Castiel “Hot Lips”), Castiel walked into Berens a couple weeks later, met with an advisor, and officially became a nursing student. He doesn’t think he ever smiled so much in his life; he was elated.

Now, though, the reality of the situation was starting to set in and an endless stream of questions keep flooding into Castiel’s head. Will he be the oldest student here? How is he supposed to balance work and school? He told Nora to cut his hours. Is he still going to be able to make rent? What is he faints or pukes and gets kicked out of the program?

“You’re doing it again.” the scruffy guy gives Castiel a pointed look. Castiel once more notices that his leg’s bouncing rapidly against the desk

“Sorry,” Castiel mumbles, planting his feet on the ground.

“Dude, you got to relax.” Scruffy guy sits back in the chair and extends his legs out, adjusting his beanie over his head. “This is an intro class. It’s going to get a whole lot harder.” Castiel frowns, not at all reassured by this statement.

“First class?” A bubbly girl in front of him turns and asks.

“Yeah,” Castiel says with a shy nod. The girl reaches out and pats at his knee.

“You’ll be fine,” she says..

“I’m still having a hard time believing I’m actually doing this, “I mean a month ago, I had literally nothing to look forward to and now I’m sitting here in my first anatomy class.” The girl’s expression flickers and she and the scruffy guy share a look.

“Um… Anatomy?” She asks, her brow drawing together.

“Um, dude, this is Intro to Mythology,” the guy snorts. Castiel’s eyes go wide; he pulls a printout of his classes from his back pocket.

“Shit!” he shouts, jumping from his seat. “I’m in the wrong building.” Castiel scrambles out of the row and takes the stairs up two at a time. Just as he reaches the exit, He hears the sound of a door and the professor entering below, signaling the start of class

“Alright, everyone, thank you for being here on time. Welcome to Intro to Mythology. You can call me Professor Winchester…”

 

* * *

 

**6 months later**

**_Dean_ **

Dean surfaces to consciousness, an incessant beep and chirp in his ear. His eyes flutter open, first taking in the stark, white room and bed, then noticing the monitors and machines wired to him.

“Dean?” Sam sits on the other side of the bed, his expression a mixture of relief, fear and happiness. Dean tries to shift up in bed, but a bolt of pain shoots through his wrist as he puts weight on it “Dean? Holy shit, man. Don’t move.” Sam jumps to his feet, hovering over Dean and repositioning his arm and the pillows around

“Sam? What’s going on?” Dean mumbles, settling back down in the bed and letting Sam fuss over him. The side of his head throbs and his aching wrist lies wrapped in a soft brace. He’s groggy and his head feels thick, no doubt from pain killers or whatever is being piped down from the IV attached to his hand.

“You’re in the hospital,” Sam says. “There was an accident.” Dean grimaces. Accident? He doesn’t remember and accident, only leaving his last class to go to lunch.

“You were hit by a car… um, _your_ car.” This gets Dean’s attention. He lifts his head up to look at Sam.

“I was hit by the Impala?”

“The cops said that someone was trying to steal it,” Sam continues. “You caught them in the act. I guess you threw yourself across the hood to stop it. When they hit the breaks, you flew about ten feet into the road.” Dean meets Sam’s gaze; He looks frightened and exhausted and like he’s worn the same clothes for days.

“What’s the damage?” Dean asks, glancing down at himself.

“You have a concussion, there was some swelling on the brain,” Sam sighs. “You’ve been out for like three days. The doctors said they wouldn’t be able to check for any brain damage until you woke up.” Dean flinches at the words “brain damage”, scared of what that might mean for teaching.

“Shit,” he mutters.

“Doctor said that the damage was localized, so it’s probably going to be memory loss more than anything else.” Sam offers a reassuring smile. “They don’t think you’re going to forget how to tie your shoes or anything.” Dean snorts and looks down at his hand.

“What about this?” He carefully lifts up his left hand, displaying the brace.

“Fractured wrist,” Sam explains.“You also broke you knee pretty badly in the fall.” Dean frowns and pulls the blanket from over his lap for the first time to reveal a plaster cast over his left leg.

“Well, this sucks,” he says.

“Dean,” Sam’s expression grows serious.“This is not a joke. You could’ve died! What were you thinking throwing yourself in front of a moving car?” Dean gives a lazy shrug.

“I don’t know, Sam. I don’t even remember it happening. One moment I’m leaving class and then boom! I wake up here.” He holds out a hand uselessly and Sam’s shoulders slump.

“You really scared the shit out of me.” he drops his head forward, running his hands through his hair. “I nearly lost it when they called me and-”

“Hey, hey, look at me.” Dean reaches out for Sam with his right hand, squeezing his arm. Sam looks up at him with watery eyes. “I’m ok, Sammy, I’m ok. I’m still here. No ‘what if’ scenarios, got it? You’ll just drive yourself crazy.” Sam bites at his lip and nods.

“Just… Just promise me you won’t do anything that stupid again, ok?” he asks sincerely. Dean smiles and nods.

“Sure thing,” he says. “Has Dad come by?”

“Yeah, he’s been around,” Sam replies. “Everyone has been by, actually: Jo, Ellen, Bobby. They all left for the night though. I just volunteered to stay in case anything happened.”

“How’s the car?” Dean asks after a moment, fearing the worst. If someone stole her and hit him with it, there’s no telling how much damage she sustained.

“The Impala’s fine,” Sam reassures. “The driver freaked out after he hit you and took off on foot. Cops caught him a few hours later. There’s a dent across the hood where you landed on it and a couple other dings, but Bobby said he’ll take care of all of those.” Sam tips his chin toward Dean’s bandaged leg. “Not like you’re going to be driving for awhile, anyway.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dean replies dismally. There’s a soft knock at the door as the doctor enters the room to evaluate Dean. He details the extent of his injuries and what he should expect during recovery. Dean hears words like “surgery,” “Displaced fracture,” and “Physical Therapy” but he’s half listening. The only thing Dean takes away is that he’s got a long road ahead of him.

* * *

 

**_Castiel_ **

The snow comes down in big, flat flakes outside the window, drifting over every surface and coating the campus in a thick layer of white. Castiel watches with fascination, following the path of an especially large snowflake as it spins and dances downward before landing on a nearby bench.

“Castiel? Earth to Clarence!” Meg’s voice startles Castiel out of his headspace. He notices that the entire study group is watching him expectantly.

“Uh, sorry… I got distracted,” he mumbles, flipping the page in his text book. The group leader, Hester, gives him a tight smile and continues firing off questions to other members.

“You ok there, Clarence?” Meg asks to his right, not looking up as she scratches notes onto an index card. She shoots him a curious look.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he mutters, pushing up his glasses and rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “Just getting burned out, I guess.” Meg snorts.

“We have five exams and then it’s winter break,” she tells him. “You just have to get through the next three weeks.”

“That’s what I keep reminding myself,” he says, scribbling a note in the margin of his textbook. As exhausted as he is, he has no regrets about entering the nursing the program. Every class he takes only seems to solidify that he’s found his calling in the medical world.  It’s only been one semester, and his enthusiasm has yet to wane.If only his body would get the message; the physical exhaustion of a full course load is catching up with him in a big way.

Castiel takes a long sip from his coffee cup and continues to take notes as Hester quizzes him and his fellow students. She’s cut off abruptly by a loud rattle.

“Donations for Professor Winchester.” A pair of girls walk through the library, shaking a metal can full of coins and soliciting donations. “Give a little for Professor Winchester’s medical fund.”

“Excuse me,” Hester calls out, raising her voice just above and acceptable library level. “Hey, can you two keep it-”

“Want to donate to Professor Winchester’s medical fund?” A girl with a long, dark ponytail jogs toward the group, can extended out in her hand.

Hester tries to be diplomatic. “This is not really appropriate for-”

“Professor Winchester was hit by a car a last week after stopping a robbery.” A small blond girl, hair half-braided over the side of her head, interrupts. “He has severe injuries and now we’re collecting money to help with his medical bills and recovery while he’s on leave.”

Hester’s polite smile falters as she tries to shoo the girls away. “I’m sure the school will take-” She’s cut off as Meg rises to her feet.

“Here,” she says, pulling a ten out of her pocket and depositing it in the can. “Is he still in the hospital?” Both girls nod.

“He’s going to need surgery and will probably be gone all of next semester,” the dark-haired girl explains.

“Well, that’s a shitty way to spend Christmas,” Meg says. She turns and shoots the rest of the group an accusing look. “Well?” A few kids sheepishly rise to their feet, dropping a couple bills or a handful of change into the can.

“Do you know the guy?” Castiel asks as Meg takes the seat next to him again.

“Winchester? No,” she replies with a brief headshake. “But I was sick of Hester trying to throw her weight around.” She turns back to her book. Castiel watches the girls move through the group for a minute before standing and pulling a ten from his wallet.

“Tell Professor Winchester Merry Christmas,” he says, depositing the bill into the can. Both girls flash him a grateful smile before moving on to the next group of studying students.

“Ok, enough interruptions,” Hester says, bringing the focus of the group back around. “Who can outline the nursing care plan for respiratory acidosis?” A guy raises his hand and begins to recite from memory. Castiel tries to listen, but Meg elbows him in the side to get his attention.

“Are you still looking for a roommate?” she whispers. Castiel nods; Gabriel had told him a couple weeks ago that he’d invited his girlfriend Kali to move in. It wasn’t explicitly stated, but from Gabriel’s apologetic expression, it was clear that this meant Castiel had to move out.

“Yeah, you know someone who’s looking?” he asks.

“Yeah. Me,” She looks up at him with a grin. Castiel's eyes widen in surprise. He and Meg are friendly, but their interactions are almost exclusively school related. What on Earth makes her think they’d be good roommates.

“Are you sure about that?” He mumbles. “We don’t know each other that well.” Meg laughs softly. Hester shoots them both a glare and taps a finger to her lips.

“Believe me, Clarence, I have had roommates who were good friends before, and I never want to go through that again.” Meg says quietly. “I much prefer strangers… Or near-strangers. Besides, I need an excuse not to move in with my girlfriend.”

“You… _don’t_ want to move in with her?” he asks.

“I love Bela, but she is crazy as shit,” Meg sighs. “So what do you say? I got a room available now.” Castiel takes a second to consider before nodding in response.

“Yeah, ok,” he says, and turns his attention back to studying.

* * *

 

**_1 Year Later_ **

**_Dean_ **

Dean’s in love.

Lisa is close to perfect. She’s gorgeous, smart, caring, bendy as all hell… everything Dean would want in a relationship. She’s also his physical therapist.

The first day he hobbled into her office on crutches, only a handful of weeks after his accident, Dean hadn’t been expecting long, dark hair and deep, soulful brown eyes with a body straight out of a Playboy. He’d flirted with her, of course, but from “go” Lisa meant business. It only made Dean like her more.

She was tough with him, making him push himself when she knew he could go further, but was still friendly and personable, doling out encouragement just when Dean needed it. After sessions, Dean would stick around and they’d talk about their lives and interests. Dean learned that Lisa was recently separated with a young son, she was a yogi, and she has a couple tattoos from a wild past that makes her the subject of a lot of gossip in her suburban neighborhood.

Talks soon turned into coffee which became dinners. Dean was smitten and it was impossible to hide, but Lisa was firm with him- it was unethical for her to date clients.

“Then we’ll wait until I’m not a client,” Dean suggested. “I got what what? Four? Five months left?”

“Closer to six,” Lisa said, “but that’s really something for your Ortho to decide.” Dean was dismayed, but not enough to give up. He spent time with Lisa and her son Ben, “as friends” he was always quick to add, joining them at the zoo or at Ben’s baseball games. Being with them felt like having a family of his own, the white picket fence and everything.

The first time they kissed was outside Lisa’s backporch. Dean was finally able to walk without support and had come over to fix a leak under the kitchen sink. They stepped out the back door for a beer after he finished and Dean took the chance, swooping in and cupping her cheek as their lips met. It lasted only a brief second, with Lisa pushing away and mumbling something about “not appropriate.” Dean nodded in agreement, but more than anything he wanted to move the kiss further.

He was willing to wait, though.

“You’re doing great, Dean,” Lisa encourages as Dean works the leg extension machine. “Five more reps. You can do this!” Dean nods and exhales steadily, continuing to rebuild his leg strength. Even though it’s been months since the cast came off, the physical difference in his muscles is still evident.

“3… 2… 1 and relax,” Lisa instructs. Dean slowly lowers his legs and leans forward, wiping the sweat off his forehead with his shirt sleeve. Lisa picks up a clipboard and makes a note.

“I’d say if you aren’t already back to full range of motion, you’re close to it.” She shoots him an encouraging smile.

“All thanks to you,” Dean replies as he stands from the machine. He grabs his water bottle and takes a long drink, sidling up to Lisa where she stands at a nearby counter.

“I’m going to send this information tp to your Ortho tonight, but I doubt you’re going to require regular PT anymore.” Lisa says as she makes a few more notes and signs her name across the bottom. She looks up at Dean, smiling warmly. “Guess you won’t need me, then.” Dean moves forward, placing his hand over hers.

“I’m always going to need you, Lis.” He leans in for a kiss, but she pulls away.

“Dean, don’t,” Lisa mumbles. Dean stares at her, thrown by the reaction.

“But… But I won’t be your patient anymore,” he says. “It’s ok. We can do this now.” Lisa bites at her lip and looks away.

“Dean, it’s not right,” she says. “I mean, it still doesn’t look good ethically, but… Dean, I’m married.”

“But you’re getting divorced.” Dean takes a step forward and tries to take Lisa’s hand, but she pulls away and shakes her head.

“We’re working it out,” she admits quietly. “Matt and I… We’re going to try again… For Ben.” Dean’s stares at her in confused silence.

“I don’t understand,” he murmurs. Lisa shakes her head.

“Ben needs a Dad,” she says. “He needs _his_ dad

“I could be that!” Dean insists, still too stunned for there to be any real anger in his words. “You know I’m crazy about him, and you.”

“I know, but… Dean, there’s so much more to it.” She moves past him and takes a seat on a nearby bench. “We’re so different, Dean. We’re different people, we want different things.”

“A lot of couples are different,” Dean says, “and they work. People can change.”

“I don’t want to ask you to change,” Lisa states finally. “And I don’t want to have to change for you. We can’t do this.” It feels like all the air has been punched out of Dean’s lungs.

“I know… I know you think you want this, but I’ve been in this situation before. Maybe it’s that Florence Nightingale thing, or something else,” She continues. “I don’t know, but we both deserve better.” There is a long stretch of silence between them, the only noise coming from the rattle of the Gym’s air system.

“That’s bullshit,” Dean blurts out. Lisa gives him an exasperated look.

“Dean, please don’t make this harder than it is,” she says. “I need to give my marriage a second chance. I owe it to Ben. I owe it to Matt.” Dean wants to scream “What about me?” but he can’t seem to find his voice.

“Do you love him?” He finally chokes out. Lisa gives a stiff nod. “Do you love me?” Dean gives her a hopeful expression, but she only stares back at him with sympathetic brown eyes.

“I’m sorry, Dean.” She rises to her feet. “It’s probably best if you go.” Dean walks out of the rehabilitation center, feeling like he’s watching an image of himself rather than living it. He slips into the front seat of the Impala, the icy leather beneath him bringing him back to reality and grounding him. He hold the keys above the ignition for a moment, before changing his mind and dropping them onto the bench seat.

Dean’s forehead falls against the wheel with a soft thud. “Fuck.”

* * *

 

**_Castiel_ **

 

Castiel smiles as he flips through Gabriel’s phone, smiling photos of him and his girlfriend staring back at him. The last few pictures feature Kali flipping the camera the bird, a massive engagement ring featured on her extended finger.

“Aaaaand I think you can stop scrolling there,” Gabriel says as he grabs the cellphone out of Castiel’s hand. “Unless you want to see my fiancee in some compromising positions.” Castiel snorts and takes a sip of his beer smiles at the other man.

“It sounds so weird to hear you call someone a _fiancee_ ,” he says. Gabriel’s eyes go wide and he nods in agreement.

“Tell me about it.” he mutters. “I think I might start saying ‘my girlfriend who I’m marrying.’” Gabriel drains his bottle and hold up two fingers toward the petite, blond bartender, signaling for another round. The Roadhouse is packed, especially considering it’s a Thursday. Castiel has never been here before, but from the way the staff reacts to him, Gabriel is something of a regular.

The bartender nods, reaching into the cooler and grabbing out a pair of Heinekens. She drops them onto the bar in front of the two men.

“So I haven’t seen you in weeks man,” Gabriel says. “What’s going on? School’s good?”

“School’s great,” Castiel answers with an honest smile. “One semester and I’ll have my associates.”

“That’s great, man.” Gabriel clinks his bottle against Castiel’s. “You think you’re going to continue?” Castiel nods.

“Yeah, I think so,” he says. “Meg and I are looking into a couple hospitals with student nursing programs.” Gabriel nods.

“How is the thorny Miss Masters?” he asks with a smirk.

“She’s fine,” Castiel answers. “Single again.” Gabriel’s brows pop up in interest.

“Really?”

“Hey, you’re getting married,” Castiel scolds. “I wouldn’t want to see what would happen to you if Kali found out you cheated on her.”

“Who said I wasn’t looking for something _for_ Kali?” Gabriel gives a wink and Castiel shakes his head with a laugh. He sometimes forgets how much he liked spending time with Gabriel. Not only is he a fun guy to hang out with, he’s viciously loyal. He took Castiel in when he was at his lowest and continued to offer help until he was on his feet again. Friends like Gabriel only come around once in a lifetime and Castiel knows not to take it for granted.

“What about your lovelife?” Gabriel shoots him a curious look.

“What lovelife?” Castiel snorts as he takes a pull off his beer bottle.

“Really? There’s no one you interested in? Maybe fucking on the side.”

“I go to school and I go to work,” Castiel sighs. “I don’t have time to date.”

“Bullshit,” Gabriel mutters as he takes a drink.

“It’s not bullshit,” Castiel insists. “I have a full course load, labs, study groups, 25 hours a week at the gas station, I’m helping out at the library-”

“And none of that can be cut out for for dating?”

“Having a romantic relationship isn’t necessary for survival,” Castiel points out, his fingers worrying the corner of his beer label.

“So are you saying you don’t want a romantic relationship?” Gabriel asks. “Or a sexual one.”

“Yes, I want those, just… not right now, ok?” Castiel says. “I have no time for another person and-”

“You do have time,” Gabriel says. “If you wanted to get out there and start seeing people, you could make time. Don’t act like I don’t see when you’re online playing Halo.” Castiel looks down in embarrassment. He rolls the corner of the beer label down farther.

“I get that school is a precedent. I understand.” Gabriel says. “But as soon as you get a job, that will be your excuse. Then it will be more school or a better job.”

“What are you getting at?” Castiel bites out in annoyance, separating the label from the bottle.

“There will always be an excuse,” Gabriel says solemnly. “There will always be a reason not to put yourself out there. You were hurt in the past-”

“This isn’t about, Michael.” Castiel interrupts.

“I never said it was,” Gabriel replies, “But me thinks thou doth protest too much.” Castiel pouts and take an angry drink of his beer.

“What I was saying was that there’s always a reason to not put yourself out there, for anything… jobs, school, family, love, whatever. If you want something, you have to ignore those excuses and just get it. The Secret doesn’t work for shit, Castiel. The universe isn’t going to just drop good things into your lap because you want them.” Gabriel punctuates his sentence by taking a long drink of his beer and slamming it back down on the bar, sending a small spout of foam shooting out the top. The blond bartender rolls her eyes and comes over with a rag to wipe up the mess.

Castiel stews on Gabriel’s words. He does want to be in a relationship again; Michael hurt him badly but not enough to ward him off being with a person for the rest of his life. He glances at his beer bottle, both the front and back labels peeled away and the one on the neck to follow soon.

“See, you’re sexually frustrated,” Gabriel points to the now-bare bottle in his hand. “That’s what that means. You are not getting enough good dick.” Castiel laughs as he takes a sip of his beer, choking and sending foam up

“You are so vulgar sometimes,” he croaks out.

“What’s wrong with ‘good dick?’” Gabriel asks, loud enough to be heard above the normal murmur of the bar. “Everyone needs good dick. One good dick deserves another.” He elbows Castiel playfully in the side.

“Seriously, stop,” Castiel says, still laughing and choking. Gabriel snorts as the blond bartender shoots them another exasperated look.

“Blondie wants to fight me,” Gabriel mutters. “but I would never fight someone so lovely.”

“Call your girlfriend-who-you’re-going-to-marry,” Castiel offers. “She’d do it.”

“Naw, they’d just end up making out on the pool table,” Gabriel mutters. “Actually, on second thought…” He pulls out his cellphone and taps on the phone icon.

* * *

 

**_Dean_ **

Dean stares at his computer screen, the Google doc in front of him turning into gibberish. He rubs at his eyes and attempts to focus, rereading a sentence for the third time. Across the office from him, his TA Charlie tuts her tongue and she flips through in-class essays and enters scores in the grading matrix.

“Jeez, Dean, you’ve been a little harsh with your comments, don't you think?” She asks. Dean leans to the side to look past the computer’s screen toward her.

“I don't sugar-coat things, Charlie,” he replies.

“Yeah, I know, but usually you don't poison-coat things either.” She holds up one essay to read the comment. “‘The Pope and the Patriarch will heal the great schism before you will get an A in this class.’ That's just mean, dude.” Dean frowns and looks back toward his screen. Charlie might have a point; his mood has been pretty sour lately, but it’s just because he’s burned out. The semester is almost over and next year he's supposed to be up for tenure. The whole matter is stressing him out.

“Are you still dwelling on the whole Lisa thing?” Charlie asks. Dean’s head shoots up.

“Wha- What?” he sputters. “What are you talking about?” Charlie just levels a deadpan look at him.

“Ever since Lisa effectively went all finishing move on your heart, you’ve been taking your pain out on your students.” She points out.

Dean scoffs. “I have not!” He knows how to separate his personal life from his professional one. Charlie raises an eyebrow.

“Really? Because I've had to edit some scathing comments out of students essays in the last three months.” She clicks a couple times on the track pad of her laptop. “I've saved the best ones: ‘The Greek gods had less drama than this run on sentence,’ ‘go meditate on why I refuse to read any more of this shit,’ ‘Learn how to hold a fucking pencil.’” She turns back to him. “You've also been more short fused in class, lately. I swear I thought Harry was going to cry after you laid into him last week.”

Dean’s face flushed in embarrassment. He hadn't realized he was being such an ass.

“I'm sorry Charlie, I just…” He shrugs. “You might be right. I'm still dealing with the whole Lisa thing, y’know?” Charlie stares at him for a moment, brow furrowed in thought.

“Why?” she asks.

“What do you mean ‘why’?”

“I mean why are you still hung up on Lisa?” she asks. “You’re acting like she was your soulmate, when in reality you two were like night and day.” Charlie's words too closely mirror Lisa’s own, and Dean scowls.

“I was in love,” Dean reminds her, “and she broke my heart.” Charlie leans forward on the desk.

“You didn't love her, Dean.” Dean opens his mouth to argue, but Charlie keeps going. “Yeah, Lisa was gorgeous and you were attracted to her, but any halfway-decent looking person could have replaced her and it wouldn't have made any difference to you.”

“That's not true,” Dean stammers out.

“Dean, I hung out with you two, remember?” Charlie comes around her desk and sits on the corner, facing him. “All of your conversations revolved around her son. That’s it.”

“Well, Ben is a great kid,” Dean interjects.

“Yeah, but you should have more in common with someone before you enter into a relationship with them,” Charlie points out. “Jesus, Dean, she was a vegan yogi who didn’t own a car. What did you guys even talk about?” Dean opens his mouth, but hesitates on answering. It’s true; he and Lisa’s conversation usually centered on Dean’s recovery or on Ben. Anytime any other subject was bridged, it usually resulted in blank stares from the other person.

“I know you cared for her and for her son,” Charlie says, “but there is a big difference between caring for someone and loving them.”

“So you’re saying I wasn’t in love?” Dean asks, anger rising in his voice.

“I think you loved the _idea_ of Lisa, of what she represented,” Charlie pushes herself up onto the desk and leans back on her arms. “She had exactly what you wanted: house, kid, picket fence, suburban life. It was a ready-made family.”

“And that’s a bad thing because...?”

“It’s not, Dean. It’s fine to want those things, but you’ve got to want your partner more. Be honest, If Lisa hadn’t had all of that, would you have given her much thought past occasional spank bank material?” Dean frowns and averts his eyes, his answer left unsaid. Charlie’s words cut deep, but they still ring true. After years of pushing the idea aside, Dean is finally ready to admit he wants to settle down and be with someone. He wants to make a life with a person and build a family.

“I’m not trying to be mean,” Charlie says, “but I hate seeing you all morose and shit.”

Dean offers up a small smile. “I appreciate the tough love, Charlie. Really.” Charlie grins.

“Look, you’ve been pushing yourself pretty hard lately. Why don’t let me help get your mind off of everything?” Dean raises a curious eyebrow as Charlie grabs a post it note and a pen off of her desk. “Dorothy and I are doing a movie night this Friday. Just a few friends and drinks, that kind of thing. Why don’t you come by?” She hands the bright yellow note to Dean, and address scratched across it.

“That sound cool. Sure,” Dean says, tucking the note into his pocket.

“We’re starting at around 5:30, but feel free to show up whenever. I live just a few blocks from campus, off of Garrison road.” Dean nods and thanks Charlie, before turning back to his computer.

* * *

 

**_Castiel_ **

As he steps out of the building on Friday afternoon, a wave of relief washes over Castiel. He only has a few weeks left until the end of the semester and his ASN. It’s like the light at the end of the tunnel is finally visible. Castiel still plans on going further and getting his Nurse Practioner certification, but just reaching this first milestone is huge. Even with finals are just around the corner, Castiel feels none of the normal tension and anxiety. Instead he just feels pumped.

Castiel walks across the quad and off-campus. It’s a gorgeous, sunny spring afternoon, the breeze cool enough to keep him comfortable, and, rather than walking toward his and Meg’s apartment, Castiel decides to head down Garrison Road

He strolls along the winding street, admiring the historic and offbeat architecture. The spire of a church rises above the trees and Castiel makes a mental note to explore it one day; he’s always had a fondness for churches.

He spots the sign for Thompson Books and Stationary in the distance. He smiles to himself, deciding that today calls for a celebration and perhaps a new book for himself. He stops at the crosswalk, waiting for traffic to clear and the “walk” sign to appear, and heads for the bookstore.

* * *

 

**_Dean_ **

Friday afternoon, Dean forgoes taking his car in favor of walking to Charlie’s place. Google maps says that she’s only a 20 minute walk away. Dean knows that he would spend far longer than that searching for parking on Garrison Road, especially on a Friday afternoon just as people start to fill up the local bars and restaurants.

The weather is gorgeous today, though, and Dean doesn’t mind. He slings his jacket over his arm, enjoying the fresh air. He sees Thompson Books and Stationery, a local shop he’s heard several students mention, and next to that a mini mart. An idea suddenly occurs to Dean: Movie Nights require black licorice. He reaches the crosswalk, pressing the button and waiting until there are no cars in sight before walking across.

* * *

 

 

**_Castiel_ **

Castiel is already engulfed in his new book as he leaves the shop. He meanders down Garrison Road, eyes fixed on the page before him. He barely spares a glance as he takes a step from the curb, not noticing the car that-

“Whoa, buddy! Are you trying to get run over?” A rough voice exclaims and a hand wraps around his arm, pulling him back. Castiel startles and stumbles backwards, crashing into a firm, warm body and dropping his book.

“I’m so sorry,” Castiel gasps, his heart hammering in his chest from the shock and fear; a car comes speeding around the corner right where he would’ve been walking. “I wasn’t paying attention where i was walking.”

“I’ll say,” the voice says, releasing his arm. “Take it from me, getting hit by a car sucks.” His voice comes out garbled, as is he’s eating. Castiel laughs lowly and leans down to pick up his book.

“I believe you. Can’t say I’ve ever had the desire to walk out… ” He trails off as he looks up for the first time, taken aback by the stunning, freckle-faced man with the warm green eyes standing above him. The man smiles and removes a black licorice rope hanging from the corner of his mouth before offering Castiel a hand up.

“Thank you,” he mumbles shyly as he gets to his feet.

“Mind me asking what has you so fascinated that you’re ready to walk out into traffic?” The guy raises an eyebrow and flashes a smirk; if Castiel didn’t know better, he’d say the guy was flirting with him. He gives an embarrassed chuckle and holds up his now-scuffed book. The guy’s brow furrow.

“Breakfast of Champions?” he asks, taking the book fro Castiel and flipping through it. “You like Vonnegut?”

“I suppose,” he answers with a shrug. “I haven’t read too many of his books, but I’ve enjoyed the few I have.” The guy flashes a full on grin and Castiel can’t help smiling back.

“What’s your favorite?” he asks, handing back the book.

“Uh, I liked Slaughterhouse Five quite a bit,” he says. The guy pouts out his lip, nodding in agreement.

“That one’s really good. I think I prefer Cat’s Cradle. More cerebral, y’know.” Castiel smiles and nods, despite never having read the book he mentioned. “This one’s a close second, though. It’s funny and gets really self-referential.”

“Yeah, it’s captivating,” Castiel offers, “I couldn’t put it down… as you saw.” They both chuckle softly before a bout of silence settles between them. Castiel smiles at the man; he finds himself not wanting to end their conversation. It's been so long since he's allowed himself to be interested in anyone and this random stranger makes him want to make up for lost time. Gabriel's words echo in his head: _there will always be a reason not to. If you want something, you have to ignore your excuses._

Castiel is sick of excuses.

“Hey, um, if you're not busy or anything, do you want to grab a coffee or something?” He asks, much too fast. He holds his breath as he waits for an answer, the other man’s expression faltering.

“I'd love to,” he answers. “I mean, I was supposed to meet some friends tonight-”

“Oh, please don't break your plans for me.” Castiel interjects. “I can always get your-”

“No, no, it's ok,” the guys makes a dismissive gesture. “I can show up anytime, they won't mind. And coffee sounds… Amazing.”

Castiel can feel a blush rising to his face. “Great. I know a great place a couple blocks away.”

“Lead the way.” The guy gestures down the sidewalk. He offers his hand out to Castiel. “I'm Dean, by the way.”

“Castiel,” he replies, shaking his hand. Dean’s grip is strong and warm.

“It's wonderful to meet you, Castiel,” Dean says.

“Same. Hello, Dean,” he replies. “Shall we?” He gesture in the direction of the cafe and they continued down the road, side by side, as an easy conversation falls between them.

* * *

 

**Present Day**

**_Dean_ **

Dean follows his brother down the stairs and into the church vestibule. He stops short when he spots Cas standing before the doors leading to the chapel, looking amazing in his tuxedo. He’s lost in thought, closely examining the their wedding program as he waits. Dean takes a second to gather himself, struck by just the sight of Castiel.

“Hey there, handsome.” He bounces down the last step, putting on his best swagger. “Going my way?” Castiel looks up and smiles at Dean.

“I should hope so,” he says as he sets down the program. He reaches out, taking Dean’s hand as he takes the spot next to him.

“I’ll be back in a minute, guys,” Sam says. “I’m just going to make sure the Reverend has everything he needs.” Cas and Dean nod in unison and Sam disappears into the Chapel. Dean squeezes his hand.

“You look amazing,” he says, lifting Cas’ knuckles up for a kiss.

“So do you,” Castiel replies. “I can’t believe we’re here right now.”

“What? In the church? Getting Married?” Dean asks, looking up at Cas.

“Well, yeah, but just… _us_ , being here,” Castiel gestures vaguely between them. “Dean, do you ever think about how we met?”

“Sure,” Dean shrugs.

“No, I mean really think about it,” a look of concern crosses his face. “Had I just stayed in the bookshop a moment longer or had you decided to drive to Charlie’s… We would have never have met.” Dean’s brow furrows as he considers this.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” he says.

“And that… that doesn’t bother you?” Castiel looks anxious and Dean turns to face him, taking both of his hands.

“Cas, I think we met each other at exactly the right time,” he says. Castiel gives him a doubtful look. “No, really, think about it- if I had met you even six months earlier, I would’ve still been hung up on Lisa. You would’ve been too deep into your work load. Neither one of us was ready for a relationship.” Dean gives him a pointed look and Castiel smiles reluctantly, nodding in agreement.

“I mean, if you want to go back even farther,” Dean continues. “Can you imagine what would have happened if I met your hungover ass the day I picked up Sam from Gabriel’s apartment?” That earns a laugh from Castiel and Dean takes the opportunity to tilt his chin up, planting a tender kiss on his mouth. Castiel inhales sharply and presses his tongue past Dean’s lips, deepening the kiss. Dean’s hands slide around his waist and pull him in closer as Cas’ arms wrap over Dean’s shoulders.

A throat clearing brings everything to an abrupt halt.

“Uh, guys?” Sam says. “We kind of have a ceremony to do before we get to that part.” Cas and Dean separate, hands still clasped together. Dean mutters “bitch” to Sam under his breath, receiving a mumbled “jerk” in return. Sam opens the chapel doors all eyes turning to face them.

“You ready?” Dean whispers, glancing at Cas out of the corner of his eye. Castiel nods, his eyes bright with happy tears.

“Yes. I am.” He squeezes Dean’s hand one more time as they start down the aisle.

 


End file.
